


A hundred years

by FenHarelsPride (Andauril)



Series: Siryn Lavellan - Non Canon / AU [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Character Death, Dead Characters, F/M, Ficlet, Grief, Lavellan does not really appear, Post-Game, sort off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3808186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andauril/pseuds/FenHarelsPride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are back, but different.”</p><p>Fen’Harel let his hand sink, turning around to face the young man standing only a few steps away. His pale blonde hair fell into his eyes, and the large hat he wore covered his face in shadow.</p><p>“You would still linger here?” he asked.</p><p>“I don’t linger. I return. She was my friend too.” Cole’s voice was but a murmur. “She knew. Or perhaps she didn’t. Eyes staring at the distance, tears trailing down her cheeks. Lonely, longing, loving still. She knew you would return.”</p><p>***</p><p>After a hundred years, Fen'Harel finally returns to Skyhold ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A hundred years

His steps blew dust off the floor. The windows of her chamber were cracked, broken, shattered glass lay on the balcony. Her desk, her bed were equally covered in thick layers of dust, and he wondered briefly for how long this room had lain deserted.

He could almost imagine her, sitting on her desk and writing letters or laying on her bed lazily in the morning, or pacing restlessly up and forth her chamber, trying to figure out a solution for one the many problems she was tasked with solving …

Fen’Harel released a sigh, trying to suppress the guilt gnawing inside him, the impertinent voice which scolded him for ever leaving her side. He had not wished to doom her, to force her to follow him down the dark road he had chosen to walk. When he took her _vallaslin_ that day on the pond, he had freed her not only from the mark of slavery, but also from himself.

Still, now, while he stood here in her deserted chambers, he wished he could have returned to her, if only for a time, if only to say a proper goodbye.

He turned around, leaving the chambers and walked through the once again deserted main hall, carefully climbing over turned and broken tables, circling a fallen statue and a broken timber. Dust rose with each of his steps, covering everything and all in the hall with grew layer.

Fen’Harel found his way to the gardens effortlessly – he knew every part of the castle as if he’d been here yesterday. Old leaves covered the cloister as he entered the gardens, but he barely noticed them. His gaze was almost immediately caught by the tree which grew at the garden’s center.

It was a still young lime tree, branches full of vibrant green leaves, its trunk still thin but strong already, roots trenching deep into the ground. Fen’Harel knew it hadn’t been here when he left. It must have been planted after his departure, presumably a quarter-century ago.

He stepped up to the tree, extending his hand to touch its trunk as if feeling it could help him connect to …

“You are back, but different.”

Fen’Harel let his hand sink, turning around to face the young man standing only a few steps away. His pale blonde hair fell into his eyes, and the large hat he wore covered his face in shadow.

“You would still linger here?” he asked.

“I don’t linger. I return. She was my friend too.” Cole’s voice was but a murmur. “She knew. Or perhaps she didn’t. Eyes staring at the distance, tears trailing down her cheeks. Lonely, longing, loving still. She knew you would return.”

“Too late”, whispered Fen’Harel, his gaze wandering back to the tree. She was no longer here.

“She remembered. She wanted a tree for her grave. Life born from death, a new beginning.”

“It is Dalish custom, if I recall it correctly.” Fen’Harel sighed. It did not surprise him that she had wished to be buried according to the customs of her people. The _shemlen_ might have called her their Herold, but she had always resented that title.

She had been buried here, a Dalish mage called the Herold of human faith, where her ancestors once had walked. It seemed fitting.

“Smile, scent, she is still so present. Sound of her laughter, like a song that sings of promise. Nothing remains in this realm. My fault. Gave her freedom and lost my own. So much regret.” Cole raised his head to look at him. “You are louder now. Changed.”

“I am not the same man as I was before.”

“Yes. And no. You’re changed, but the same. Because she was real.”

Fen’Harel laid one hand onto the trunk of the young lime tree. His throat felt narrow, and he choked for air. The pain was real, a sharp sting cutting through his chest. He had no heart without her, and she was gone.

“She was”, he rasped. “Please …”

Cole did not respond, but Fen’Harel could feel his presence fading. He did not turn around, but knew he was alone. The gardens had once more gone silent, and the whispers of the leaves in the wind and his own heart beat there the only noises now.

Fen’Harel kneeled down before her _vallasdahlen_ and slowly pulled his jawbone necklace over his head. He laid the pendant down between the lime tree’s roots, sipping in a shaky breath. His eyes burned, and he finally gave into his sorrow, mourning the death of the woman he had loved, had freed and lost twice.

_Ar lath ma’uth, vhenan._

 


End file.
